


The Time was Unripe

by Anoriath



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, a little bit of smut, yeah I couldn't leave it alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoriath/pseuds/Anoriath
Summary: This is an alternate ending for No Man's Child.  Events in this one-shot replace those of the last two chapters, so spoilers abound if you haven't read No Man's Child.This is essentially an AU of my AU.  A fix-it fic of my own story.I don't know what to tell you.  Sometimes, these things just insist on being written and I'm simply the conduit.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Original Female Character(s), OFC Nienelen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20
Collections: No Man's Child - stories - time stamps - and - supplementary material





	The Time was Unripe

_The Journal of the Days  
as kept by Nienelen, Lady of the Dúnedain_

_TA 3019: Loëndë:_

_In these, the days of midsummer, the blessings of the Valar lie upon us here in the Angle, with dry days for the plowing, rains for the seeds when they have been planted, and fair days for their reaping._

_Elder Bachor sends word from the north where he has taken up residence with his kin of the Randírim.He has secured the palantír for us.Of such is his description, it seems to be one of the lesser ones.Which may be of a good, as it would not tempt too much attention hither and yet still will be well worth the price it cost.The icefishers of Forochel agreed to the exchange of lands about the river Lhûn as outlined in Elder Bachor’s letter contained herein.And in my lord’s absence, I have authorized it._

_We still have had no word from the Southlands._

_Rumors have reached us here of the defeat of our enemy upon the Pelennor.And what it cost._

_Still, even now, I catch myself turning to ask Halbarad a question, or wondering should I add honey and tempt the man’s belly, or awake expecting to hear him moving about and preparing for the day below stairs muffled by the walls of my lord’s hall.And then remember, no, no, he is gone, and I shall not see him again.Each time it is as when I had first heard the news._

_With each passing of the seasons in which they did not return, I had hoped to hear at least what became of the remainder of our men who rode thither, should we mourn them and where they might be buried. It is hard enough to think that Halbarad’s bones rest in lands so far from those who loved him that we were not there to weep over him. Harder still to think the ground in which our fathers, sons, and husbands rest lies nigh the Black Gates, where there is so little of beauty and peace to mark their place.It is as had we wiped their names from the face of this earth, and spit on the sacrifice they made from which we so greatly benefit._

_Surely the Lord Steward of Gondor would take pity on us, and should I beg word of their fate, he would answer._

_I should write the letter and find someone willing to travel and carry it.But my heart misgives me._

_When the world learns we are leaderless and bereft of our best defenses, what happens next?What happens should the letter be waylaid or misplaced?Even should it make its way to the White City, who shall need read it to decide it shall be placed upon the Steward’s desk?And even then, can I rely on the good will and discretion of a man with whom I have but a moment’s acquaintance?Why has it been left to us to beg news of the men who came to the White City’s aid?It is this lack of consideration that gives me pause._

_‘Tis said he is a brave and honorable man, but a man may afford to be gracious to those of his peers and those who matter to him, and less so to those who do not, and yet still retain his good name.And that moment he and I had gives me no comfort.In truth, I know not even should he be such a man who would see in it opportunity to expand the reach of the Southlands, should I send such a message._

_Or I could be constructing fears out of whole cloth, and I am keeping us in ignorance and extending our suffering when it need not be._

_I have no compass to guide me._

_It seems, then, of all ills that may proceed from this choice, our current grief and uncertainty are the lesser of them._

_And yet it is hard to bear._

_And so, for now, I do not restrain our folk’s feasting and attempts at merry-making, no matter my distrust of what shall come once the folk of Dunland and Angmar take stock of their state, and thus wish to repair what they have lost with what little we have.Nor do I assert caution and advise the storing of our surplus of grain and beans, no matter it has been but one harvest of plenty.Not yet.But soon I must._

_We have won ourselves a small bit of peace, though the price is a heavy one._

_I should not complain.I am not without allies.And I have one thing of certainty; in the absence of my lord, or any word of him, I remain Lady of the Dúnedain, and must bear his burden in his place as best I am able._

~

“But you say my daughter, Elenir, is well,” comes from within the pantry of my lord’s hall with the sound of the brush of straw upon the floor.The hall is empty; the hearth cold and clean of ash.No banner hangs behind my lord’s chair to mark his place as once there was, though the tables and bench have been pulled from where they were leaned up against the wall and set upon their feet. 

“Aye, my lord,” comes the answer and a shadow moves from within the open door. This is answered with a grunt and the scrape of somewhat against the floor. 

“Grown as a weed and as plump as a berry, or so they say,” he goes on.

“My lord,” he prompts the silence that follows this, “your lady is sure to make an appearance somewhere ere the even’s meal.Most like amongst her kin at Elder Bachor’s hall, being as she and your daughter have taken up residence there.What would you have me do?”

“Ah,” comes the soft exclamation and then a sigh.“Naught at the moment, I think.Go!Enjoy your own kin.I have kept you from them over-long. But mayhap spread the word to regather after the noon meal upon the morrow and see should Mistress Elesinda be willing.I shall need help putting this place to rights.She will know where things have been stored.I would most like a mattress, should one be found.”

“Aye, my lord,” the Ranger says, smiling, and, stepping backward through the pantry door, raises his knuckle to his brow in swift salute.“I will see to it.”

When he turns about it is to give a startled, “Oy!”

For I am standing beneath the lintel of the great door, trembling so that I am unsure should my limbs hold me aloft, with the back of my hand pressed hard against my teeth.

~

Elder Pelara’s face glowed all the brighter for our banging upon the trestle tables and stomping upon the floor of the threshing circle.The redder it grew the louder we called.We had gathered handfuls of flowers of purple vetch and buttercup from the high meadows about the Angle, and there they lined the pavilion under which the brides sat, with ribbons of a soft green floating about them upon the breeze.Nesta had all but hidden her face behind her free hand, shaking her head and bowing it deep into her lap.Their hands bound together with silken ribbons, they sat at the head of the encircling tables and shouted at us to quit with our racket. They will have none of it.

We do not believe them.

For all her protests, Elder Pelara’s look was fondly vexed where she turned it upon her son who had arisen and raised his cup and made the call.He, well acquainted with his mother, stood tall and loose-limbed, smiling broadly upon her.When Nesta lifted her head, she was grinning so that her eyes were bright with tears for all that they were nigh hidden in the wrinkles of her cheeks.It was not the crowd of their kin and friends that caused her mirth, but her wife.For sure it is, the Elder, long widowed but well acquainted with the practice of our people, had sworn she would not be bullied into displays of affection afore the whole of the folk of the Angle.And we knew it.

And so, of course, we did not relent.Our pounding and calling of their names grew all the louder.

I thought, mayhap, she would make a broad show of it and play to the crowd’s mirth, but she did not.Instead, ‘twas Nesta who lifted Pelara’s chin and directed her ire away from the feasting crowd and to the matter at hand.Their kiss was sweet and soft.Of a sudden, the tenderness of their closed eyes and lingering touch struck at my heart.Aye, I am glad for them!And so I raised my cup and, calling their names, drank down the rest of the ale therein with their kin and friends gathered here.

“There, now,” cried Pelara when done and they had separated and settled into the backs of their chairs.She slapped at Nesta’s arm.For the Healer looked much satisfied with herself and beamed at the crowd.

“Be content, you churls!” Pelara shouted, shaking her fist at us. “Now go drink my wine and ale and eat my food and leave us be!”

And so we shall, for a little.

I sat in the shade and fanned myself with a bit of cloth. _Ai!_ But it has grown warm.Mayhap we should have left the dancing for after the sun had set.

Elenir played at somewhat with Lothel and Matilde’s sons within the circle of the tables.Upon the outer edge, seated upon the wall of stone about the threshing floor, the musicians took their rest and ale to drink ere resuming their playing.I knew not what the children played at, but it involved much hopping and leaping.The older children tumbled one o’er the other and Elenir gamely hopped and circled about them, eager to join but not quite of a size to do it.Ah, but she shall soon be.She has grown to all legs, that one.With her round infant’s belly and her long legs akimbo when crouched afore the hearth and awaiting her supper, she looked like naught more than a little frog, or, at the least, ‘tis the name she most oft answers to now.

Einiond giggled sharply and clapped upon the edges of their play, a little large to join in himself, but excited by it natheless.His sister Matilde then pulled him away and into the shade, tempting him with sweets and a cool cloth upon his brow.He has the habit of forgetting to eat and drink in the midst of such gatherings, and could excite himself into agitation should he not get some quiet.There, beside them in the shade across the circle, Ranger Haldren sat straighter in his chair and drew in his long legs, offering to keep an eye on him.

Haldren had spent much of the meal and the dancing after, seated back in his chair, his hand curled about his cup of ale, watching the folk gathered there from beneath his hooded eyes.Most oft, his gaze lingered upon a couple newly come to the Angle, their children nigh full grown and here to see should they be able to improve their lot.They are fair-faced and very loving with one another, and his look upon them was very pointed in its boldness.

Mayhap I should warn them.

Oh, ah.No.For, their heads inclined together, first one then the other chanced a quick glance to the Ranger and now it seemed they conferred about somewhat that both amused and engrossed them.Mayhap they have things well in hand, then. 

“Do you think we shall have somewhat of peace now?” Matilde asked, her eyes alight.

Aglow with sweat for her dancing, she dropped to the bench beside me and, dragging a pastry of lemon and ginger to her from its basket, set to pulling it apart.I must bite at my lip, for the brides chanced to look upon us at just this moment and she waved to them with a bright smile upon her lips as had she not just been speaking of them. 

Oh, aye, the witnessing of their oaths by Master Maurus and Ranger Haldren was a given, for, as Elder Pelara huffed, the men of their kin were needed for naught else, as she saw no reason to not make and accept her own oaths of marriage, thank ye very kindly, and ‘tis naught of any other’s business but theirs.

On this, the brides agreed.But little else.

And so there was much argument as to the wedding feast to follow.Back and forth they went as to whether there should be a meal.And should there be a meal, what shall be served and who should have the making of it.And should there be dancing, and should there be dancing who shall call the steps, and whose lungs best fill their pipes and fingers work the hurdy gurdy.It only stopped when we, their friends and kin, insisted they separate for at least a day or two ere their wedding, so that they might both take their own procession through the Angle and meet here at the threshing circle, where it was determined there was room enough for all who desired attendance.

I stretched and then shuffled about upon the bench, turning so Matilde and I might speak together.“’Tis a shame Bachor is not here to see this,” I said, for he had worked as hard as had Pelara to amend the Angle’s charter to allow women to take and hold oaths.This day would not have happened had they not.

His sister made a sound of agreement, her mouth full of pastry.

“He has but his own choices to blame for it,” said she once she had swallowed.She went on, waving her hand airily over the table. “Whatever has caught his fancy, be it man, woman, or opportunity for trade for our House-“

“Or opportunity for advancement of his person,” said I and his sister laughed.

“Aye, that too,” she said and took another bite, speaking around it and covering her mouth with her cupped hand.“He need not delay his return.He could choose to bring it hither with him, where we could fawn over him and make him feel clever.”

I laughed.For, indeed, he would like that.

Aye, I hope he returns soon, for my own sake. My own plans for my daughter are only half formed and required his input about matters amongst the clans of _The Gornwaith_.With each day without word from the South, it seemed they may not be needed, but, even so, I would have them ready.

Master Fimon rose from where he sat upon the low wall about the threshing circle and, upending the last of the ale from his cup, wet his lips and played a lilting series of notes upon his pipe.‘Tis a jig, I think, though I do not recognize it from the little he played, but it soon had the other musicians’ attention.They wiped their fingers and swallowed the last of their drinks to take up the debate as to their next tune.It seems the dancing shall resume soon.

When I returned from my musings to attend to her, I found Matilde looking fondly upon me as she nibbled upon a piece of the pastry.

“What matter?”

“Oh, no matter.” She shrugged. “’Tis but good to hear your laughter and see you at ease.”

With that, a wave of warmth made me smile all the more.Aye, today has been a good one, and long in the making.

Ah, she has been most generous with me, Matilde, sharing hearth with my daughter and I.Bachor claimed it was he who wished us to join them, but she swore it was she who threatened to beat him about the head and shoulders with her broom should he allow us to live alone and without kin in my lord’s hall.

“All alone, raising your daughter with neither another hand to help nor another child for the girl to play with, and without kin and naught for company but the occasional Ranger lad too cowed to say either good morrow or good night, much less keep you in line when you grow too stubborn for your own good?No,” she had said, in no uncertain terms, when I had once thought to offer an apology for imposing upon her.

I shaded my eyes against the westering sun the better to see her.

“Come!” Matilde said, grinning her wicked smile.

Oh, no.What has she in mind?

“This tastes so good, Nienelen, you must have some!”

Oh, that.

“ _Ai_ , no!” I protested, waving her off, my belly already quite full enough.The pastries were very good, and I had been sitting here for some time ere she joined me.

“Oh,” she said, groaning as she took another bite, “Pelara truly outdid herself this time.”She pushed the basket toward me.

“Then I shall leave all the more for you.” I pushed it back to its place.

“Ah, most generous of you, my lady,” she said, plucking a pastry from the basket.“Not all of us spent the winter in Imladris enjoying their lemons and hothouse fruits.

“Still,” she went on, tearing off a piece, “I am not so greedy I would eat it all.

“Pipe, pipe, little chickie,” she commanded, waving a piece about my mouth, and then fell to giggling for the look upon my face.“Come now, you have grown far too high, Nienelen, for someone whose swaddling clothes I once changed.”

Aye, two fools, us, giggling and squinting into the sun as it moved west and peeked beneath the cloth strung overhead.

And then all life seemed to drain from her face and she fell still, her hand upon my arm.

“Nienelen,” she said low and, leaning in to me, dropped the pastry onto the table.She stared over my shoulder where I had turned my back to the company.It came to me now that a murmuring rose behind me.Every hair on the back of my neck came alight.I was about to twist about when she grabbed my arm.

“My lady,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes, _“prepare thyself!”_

When I turned about, it was to find a man in the somber gray of a Ranger’s gear speaking quietly to Haldren who, no doubt, thrust himself to standing at the sight.For ‘twas Ranger Mathil, who I had not seen since the day Halbarad led the Gray Company from Imladris to join their lord afore the walls of the Pelennor, and there meet our enemy.

At some point, I leapt to my feet, I do not recall when.All joy drained from me, the company about us grim and the children staring at us with widened eyes.All eyes fell upon Mathil, and I think he knew it, for he looked about and Ranger Haldren nodded.

’Twas Haldren who crossed the threshing floor, leaving Mathil to the urgent queries of the folk gathered there.There they left their benches and chairs to cluster about him.Still, the crowd was hushed, and I knew those who had no more urgent need of word themselves watched to see what news the Lady was to receive.Pelara and Nesta rose from their chairs and, together, tore at the knots in the ribbons about their hands and, with a pang, it came to me that they prepared to take charge and do whatever must be done.Someone cried out, I know not who. _Ai!_ I am the Lady of the Dúnedain, and should be there to comfort them, but my feet were rooted and unable to move.Pelara has come upon my daughter already and taken her up, the child grasping upon her arm and looking uncertainly about.

“My lady,” Haldren said low when he reached the table, and only now could I feel that Matilde has taken a strong grip upon my arm and sought to keep me from listing to the side.His voice seemed muffled as though by some great distance.“They have returned not an hour past. Your husband awaits you in his house and has sent men to look for you.”

My husband?My husband!

 _Ai!_ My ears rang and all about the edges of my vision sparked darkly.I must have been staring at the man, my mouth agape and my legs unable to hold me steady, for Matilde grabbed upon me and put her shoulder to me.

“Lalorion!” Matilde called to her eldest son, her arm coming about me to keep me from sinking to the ground.“Get water for the Lady!”

Aye, Lady of the Dúnedain that I am, I should walk or, mayhap should I wish more speed, beg somewhat to ride upon, but I cannot think.And I cannot wait.My thoughts aflutter, I picked up my skirts, and, climbing over the bench, set my feet upon the path to the south end of the Angle, and ran.

~

I hardly see him leave, the Ranger, for my eyes are upon my lord.He appeared in the pantry door, a broom in one hand and the other clutching a shard of crockery coated with dust and trailing spiders’ webs.

I can make little sense of what I see but that he is whole and in good health.Aye, in truth in better fit and well fed than I had seen him in some years.Only later does it come to me he wears clothes of a fair weave and sturdy make.They are of a cut I have not seen but on the Lord of the Tower of Guard.’Tis fine work, stained with travel though they are.

Upon the sight of me his look falls somewhat weary and closed.

He stares at me then, half in and half out of the pantry.And then his eyes fall from me, and he clears his throat and disappears.Soft sounds come from within the pantry and, when I appear there, he has placed the broken shard upon the work-shelf and hangs the broom from its hook behind the door.The shelves are empty and barrels upended.Dust floats bright in the air behind him where he had stirred it with his sweeping. 

“Lady,” says he when done and there is naught more to do.

I hardly know what to make of either him or myself, but swallow against any tears and clasp my hands afore me.

“My lord,” say I, “ _thy House welcomes thee home._ ”

I know not why these words must make my lord suck in a breath and look away as had a sudden pain come upon him, but they do.I can only think, aye, he has come to his choice, and now I must hear of it.

Oh, _ai!_ I am not ready.

The soles of his boots shuffle upon the stone floor.“I-,” he starts and then falters, casting about.His eyes light upon his pack on its hook by the great door and he comes to some stillness.

His touch is light beneath my arm.“Will you not come and take some refreshment with me?”He motions to the table and bench where they have been pulled from the wall and set to their feet.

I had charged Elesinda to close the house after our flight to Imladris.But now the sheets covering the tall chest and cupboards and settle have been pulled from their place and lie in a pile by the buttery door, there to be taken out with the other laundry from my lord’s travels piled there.The shutters have been thrown wide, and light and air stream through the tall windows of my lord’s hall.

Someone has scrubbed the wood of the table clean, for it is yet damp to the touch.He leaves me there, settled upon the bench, and rummages through his pack.When he returns, he bears two small cups of horn and a leather flagon with him from it.

I think, at first, he will return to his great chair, and there seat himself where the table shall be between us, but he does not.Instead, he straddles the bench facing me, and there he pours a pale, straw-colored wine for us.The smell is sharp and crisp as of the first bite of an apple.

’Tis a taste I recognize from the Hidden Vale’s vineyards.He can only have brought it hither with him.

I set the cup upon the table with a soft, deliberate click and then rub the cloth of my skirts upon my thighs.

Oh, _ai!_ I can only be grateful we came upon each other alone, where no eyes may see what is to come next.Mayhap, should I hold myself still, I can bear it and not make a fool of myself.

The food of the feast sours in my belly.Ah, had I not eaten so much.And I do not wish more of the wine!

“You look well,” he says and I nod, unable to raise my eyes from where they are fixed upon my lap.

“I am very pleased to see that you do, as well, my lord,” say I, and this, the suddenness of it, catches up to me and clenches my throat.

I do not think I could force words through it should even my lord command it of me.My heart beats as a drum within my breast, for he sits so close I can feel the warmth of his skin coming off of him.

“And,” he says, “I hear, I am told my daughter-“He stops, at a sudden loss for words.“Our daughter- Elenir, she is well, aye?” he asks, his voice halting and uncertain.

“Oh, aye, my lord! She is very well and will be much pleased to see you,” bursts from me as had I kept all my fears as an overflowing river dammed within my heart. 

And then I am sobbing.I clap my hands to my face.For, aye, he is well and truly here.No wishful dream to soothe me to my sleep, but real.And about to tell me somewhat that is sure to rip my heart asunder.And all I can think is that I most wish to smooth my fingers upon his cheek and brow to soothe away the resigned and grim look upon his face.

 _Ai!_ There is so much I do not know.I do not know what he shall next say.I do not know should he demand we remove South no matter my threats.I do not know should he intend to tear my daughter from me should I again refuse him.I do not know should he have returned only to set me aside and say his farewells so he may take up again his betrothal to the Lady of Imladris, and I shall be alone and bereft and my daughter fatherless.I only know he is here.And I dare not touch him for fear of what I might do should I feel his hands upon me. 

“ _Ai!_ Lady!” breathes he.It seems he, too, unsure what he should do.For his hands stir and clench upon themselves and he shifts in his seat.

“Forgive me, my lord,” say I and swipe at my cheeks with the heels of my hands.I swallow hard and sniff for want of cloth to clean my face.

His look is pained as he watches.He has clenched his hands in fists, as were he afraid of what they might do.

“Please pay me no heed, my lord.You may continue with what you have come to say.”

This makes his eyes drop.A bit of sinew leaps at the back of his jaw and, for a reason I cannot think, he reddens and seems unable to speak for some time.

I can do naught but wait.I have no way to know what it is he intends.

“Do you truly wish me to beg?” comes the question softly asked.

I cannot think what he means.

“Was not what I said in my letters enough?” he asks, and by his earnest look he hopes I have an answer, but I can only stare at him.

“What letters?”

“The letters I sent -“

“My lord, we have had no letter, no news, no word at all of you nor your men since just after the Nameless One put siege to the White City, and you and others left to march upon the Black Gates.”

“What?”It is his turn to look upon me with disbelief writ large upon his face.“Then you did not know we were to return-“

“My lord, I did not even know you lived until just now!”

One thought after another chases its way across his face in an instant.At first, it is shock and pity.And then confusion clouds his look ere understanding dawns as a light upon his features.He sets down his cup and, scrubbing his fingers upon his brow, a twist of pain distorts his features and he laughs wetly.

“ _Ai,_ Nienelen!I thought-“ says he, and then halts of a sudden.He sits silent beside me, his fist pressed to his mouth and light trembling in his eyes ere he blinks.For a long moment, he considers the grain of wood upon the table ere he speaks again.

“I returned today,” he says, his voice low, “only to find my hall long abandoned and not one member of my kin nor House here to greet me.I thought, then, you knew I was to arrive, and had planned it as a rebuke, and by it rebuff any attempt to reconcile.

“I cannot-” he goes on, his voice strangled as were he attempting to swallow a stone.He wipes at his face. “Nienelen, I cannot choose yet a third woman to wed.For should you turn your back upon me and insist I set you aside, I do not have it in me to love again.It would bring both she and I only suffering.I would rather live alone and take up the charge of our people’s care without heir or lady to aid me.Let the House of Isildur die with me.I will find other means of ensuring the well-being of the Dúnedain of the Northlands.”

I stare at him and attempt to make sense of what he has said.

“Then, you have not returned to reclaim your daughter and take her South,” comes from my mouth in a rush.

He sits frozen, with a sudden look of horror and pity upon his face. “Nay, lady,” he says. “No!My only wish has been to rejoin you and her here.”

With a loud sound the bench scrapes against the floor, for I have arisen, shoving it back.All about is a blur of light and dark, but when I reach out, my lord grabs upon my hand and holds me steady as I lift my skirts and then straddle both him and the bench.He makes some noise of protest and yearning both and pulls his hand free only to grab upon me, waist and knee, to draw me close about him.

And then his lips are upon mine, warm and demanding, and his hands upon my face holding me steady.In turn, I grab up handfuls of the cloth of his tunic as were I afraid to let him go.He then catches me up and presses me tight to him.His heart is thundering in his breast and his breath hitches.He is murmuring somewhat between the kisses that he presses to my head and jaw and neck that, at the first, I cannot catch, for I have wrapped my arms just as tight about his neck and buried my face beneath his jaw.

“Forgive me,” I say, pressed tight to him, my voice so muffled I am unsure should he understand what I say. “ _I should have been here to greet thee._ ”

“‘Nay, lady, it matters not.You are well and our daughter is well and I am home, lady, I am home,” he says, over and over until I think I may just believe it at last.

I push away with my hands flat upon his breast, though not so far that I break the circle of his arms.I must see his face.His eyes light upon me from hair bound in ribbons to cheeks where they are wet, to my lips.But when he returns my gaze, he grows solemn and his look is heavy with regret.For, sure it is, I must look at him as though I have no ability to comprehend what has just happened.

He sighs and runs the tips of his fingers up and down my back for a little until his hands come to rest about my waist and he speaks.

“I did not press my claim.”

I do not know what to think of this.

“I thought, mayhap, the time would ripen, but it did not,” he goes on and his hands tighten about me.“The White City has its champion in Lord Boromir.It was he who led their men to assail the Black Gates and it is he they love and, quite properly, given the credit of our victory.I was but a captain of the Northlands in their company.”

He laughs, short and sharp.“He made the offer to back me, should I wish to present my claim to the Council.But it was a deeply uncertain thing and like to fail.Even should I have succeeded, my hold upon the throne would have been weak, and any work done to succor the Northlands suspect. The people and their lords looked kindly upon us for our aid in their time of need, but that would have changed. Had I been king, it would have been of a split kingdom, and the Northlands would have suffered for it.”

In all of this, he cannot look upon me.It comes to me, then, he is ashamed, and fears I would see it as a failure, through some weakness of his he had failed to do what his people needed of him.

“Thorongil, the great captain returned in service of their steward, they said, and so I was, but naught more,” says he with a wry twist of his lips.He bows his head and is quiet for a moment, hiding his face from me.

Oh, _ai!_ All the years of his trials and yearning for such a thing.And, at the last, he turned his back upon it.How it must have stung.Without comment, he accepts the touch of my fingers upon his nape of his neck and the threading of my fingers through his hair there.

When he lifts his face, his look is resolute, though somewhat of regret yet clings to him.He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my brow ere proceeding, as were it in payment for the comfort I offered him.

“I decided then, to return and face whatever might come of us here,” he says low.“And once I knew that my fate, I wished for naught more than I may do it with you.”

I do not speak, but card my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, considering all he has said.

Aye, whatever the joy of this moment, we have won ourselves but a short time of reprieve.Mayhap I should cling to it all the harder.For I do not know when and in what manner I shall again lose it.

“Come, lady, I do not think it shall be so hopeless as once we thought,” he says, his voice in my ear, as had he read my thoughts.Mayhap they were quite plain in the manner in which I held myself against him and was silent.“We have made many allies in these past months, you and I.”

“Mayhap,” say I, “but they are many miles from here.”

’Tis then he pulls away and I must release my hold upon his neck, though he goes no further than where he may look upon me.

“Not so far as you would think,” he says. “Rohan is no friend of Dunland and, as we came to theirs, King Ëomer swore to come to our aid should we need it.The folk of Forochel are strange to us, but they need not be, and the clan of the Randírim is well placed to form alliances with them.And you have already begun the pursuit of it in sending Elder Bachor north.”

He considers me, for I yet remain silent, plucking at the fabric upon his shoulders where they meet in seams at the collar about his neck.

“Imladris’ survival against the Men of Angmar depends upon our united strength,” he goes on.“The sons of Elrond remain, as does his daughter.”

This, I did not know.The shock of it stills my hands.I must search his face for the truth of it, for he nods.

“She has made her choice,” he says.“She is determined to not go West until she can take her place among those tested by command, when all of her kin may go with her, or there are none left here.Her father has ceded the rule of his House to her hands.She will make good use of it and, after their debates failed to move her, her brothers see the wisdom of it and are determined to aid her in it.”

So, the Lady rejected her grandmother’s choice.I suppose I should not be surprised.No Ban lays upon her and she need not beg and humble herself for her entrance West.Still, I must wonder at her heart, and what it costs her to remain.Strange, the long span of years she would have afore her in Elvenhome, that she would suffer her time here in payment of improving her standing there. 

My lord’s thumbs move against the bones of my hip.It seems he was giving me time to consider his news, for he waits patiently and, most like, learns much of my feelings for the Lady Arwen as he watches my thoughts play across my face.

“She wishes you to know that she misses your company already,” he says gently and with some wonder.“I am told you made good use of the libraries there and now have an education to rival my own.”He breaks into a broad smile.“I have been warned to tread carefully.”

Oh, _ai!_ With a sudden pang, I realize how much I have missed the Lady Arwen and her good humor and sharp wit.

“I have with me a letter from her for you, but this she told me herself,” he says, his smile fading to somewhat wry.“She would have you visit at any time you wish.You need not announce yourself or await an invite.All you need do is arrive at her gates, and they will be opened and you and our daughter made welcome.”

This, too, surprises me, not in my welcome, but where the Lady of the Dúnedain is to go, her lord must most oft attend her.I cannot think she would wish to see much of us together, no matter the warmth of her friendship.

“I, on the other hand,” he goes on, “am to send a formally appointed delegation ahead of time to beg her audience ere I am allowed across even the Fords of the Bruinen.”

I can do little but press my fingers to my lips to catch the smile that would burst upon them.It does sound quite like the Lady of Imladris to say such a thing.She may have forgiven her betrothed, but it does not follow that she would not use the situation to exact a penance from the Lord of the Dúnedain.Lord of the neighboring folk and her rival in Eriador, such a demand would put him firmly on his back foot.She would like that.I can only think of the conferences the three of us shall have, and how it is not either I or the Lady of Imladris like to be made uncomfortable within them.

He looks at me and shakes his head.“How you made her your friend, I shall never guess.”

“’Tis not all about you,” I say, though I hope it is with some kindliness.

“So am I coming to learn,” says he, “and I am happy to let it be so.”

It seems I should not have worried, for his look is softly amused. Aye, there is grief there, yet, as there should be, but he is more at peace than I have seen him since I think I have ever known him. 

He speaks this next with that intent look firm with purpose that latches upon my heart as it ever has.“We may not be what we once were nor ascend to greater heights, but, I think, should you and I put ourselves to it, we may reunite and heal what was once torn asunder.”

He searches my face.

“So, what say you, Nienelen, daughter of Melendir of the Northland’s Rangers and of Elenir of the clan of the Mawrím?There is much work to be done.Will you take your husband back and shoulder it with him?”

Mayhap I should kiss him now as answer.And it seems he desires it, for his eyes are drawn to my lips even should he wish for me to speak.

“Master Muindir wishes to continue his studies in Imladris and travel among the folk of the homesteads and clans so he may return and build a school but I hope to find more who are willing to go with him,” I say in a rush and he blinks.

A broad smile flashes upon his face.“Aye!Done!” says he and laughs.So high and joyful the sound my heart beats in a startled thump in response and warmth floods through me.

“Should the Lady Arwen permit it,” he goes on, “I will sanction it and provide them with escort and aught else they need for their travels.”

“There is rumor of bands of outlaws come south from Angmar who harry our folk in their summer pastures,” I say and he nods. 

“Aye, the preservation of our borders and our folk is a sacred trust to which I shall put my efforts.”He pauses here to think ere speaking further.His hands shift upon me.“I shall consult with Haldren and attend to defending our borders to the north.Once we are more secure in our position with Angmar, we shall see what relations we can build with them.”

“You should send Haldren amongst them,” say I wryly.“That would do it.”

The man was quite like to seduce a third of the chieftains of Angmar and their wives, frighten a third into submission while in the attempt of it, and assassinate the last recalcitrant third, until all were bound to his will in some manner.

“Indeed it might,” he says and makes a noise I cannot translate.It may have somewhat to do with the hands that have taken a firm hold of my buttocks and pull me closer in against him.

“I shall take your counsel under serious consideration,” he says. My skirts have rucked up with his pulling on me, which may have been his intent, should the soft, questing fingers that run upon the skin beneath my thighs be any indication.“Though there may be competing demands that require somewhat else of him.Natheless, I shall consult you should that arise, should you also consult with the Lady of Imladris and her brothers about potential mutual aid addressing the issue.”

“Will that do?” he asks and his hands still.

His look is expectant, no matter the spark of mischief that brings his face alight.

Aye, yes, I need a moment to gather my thoughts ere I can speak.For he had been drawing light circles upon the skin of my thighs that meandered ever closer to the middle.I cannot recall the last he had attempted to seduce me.It seems he has put much thought into how he may go about it since then. _Ai!_ It seems all I can do to hang upon his shoulders and not thrust myself against him.

“Aye, that is agreeable.”

So garbled is my voice, it seems he cannot forebear from grinning at the sound and setting his fingers to work again.

An insufferable smug man, he is.Though, I confess, mayhap I shall reserve my protests of his attempts to distract me for another time.

“Have you aught else in mind?” he asks.

I have had many things in mind. The women of the Angle would be much better served by a mill to grind their grain than spending hours turning querns.There is more land to be assarted.Trade to be built.Men and women to be retrained in crafts and industries long abandoned.Houses to be raised.Mayhap, one day, even ships and harbors and stone towers. It seems I had better say them soon ere I lose all chance of working my voice from my throat in some coherent manner.

“The youths of the clans foster in each other’s pastures to learn of each other each summer.I thought mayhap to expand that to the youth of the Angle and homesteads.”

In a swift move, his hand comes upon my cheek to cup me there. 

“Aye, lady,” he says, soft and fond.His thumb runs upon my cheek. “Fill our hall with fosterlings and foundlings as you wish.I will be pleased to teach and provide for them as was done for me.

“But let us not start just yet,” he goes on.“I would wish some time alone with you, first.”

I snort at this, the sound surprised from me.“I had no idea such a thing was on your mind, my lord.”

He laughs and his arm comes about me, rocking us a little side to side as he muses.“I was thinking, mayhap, of the promise I made to you the last we did this.Do you recall it?”

“Oh, aye,” I say and lean into him.Indeed I do, for he had promised to chase me from the foot to the head of our bed with his tongue.

“Good!” he says and then presses his face to the side of my head so he might speak low in my ear.“And then, after I am done with that, I shall turn you upon your belly and there take you until you are twitching and trembling beneath me.”

There it is.I have lost all power of both thought and speech, such is the image that appears in my head and the thought of my lord’s weight upon me and his hitched breath and moaning in my ear.

He pulls back so he may look up on me, smiling.“What say you to that?”

“The mattresses are stored in our sheds below the well-garth.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Here he looks upon me, his face soft.I rest my head against him, my arms about his waist, and he gathers me to him and his fingers playing upon my brow and the small hairs that grow there.

Later. _Later_.My lord will crouch upon the floor by the hearth to make himself small and call his daughter to him.I could not tell him should she be able recall her father, nor should she allow him to press his affection upon her.And, indeed, she shall be reluctant and cling to my leg, at the first.But, after some time, she shall allow him to stand and hold her in his arms.There she shall examine him uncertainly as he speaks to her and tells tales he recalls of her.But ‘tis not until he sings to her soft and low that her eyes shall widen and she shall stare at him as should she not believe the proof of her own eyes.Then, her face shall crumple and she shall grab upon him and wail into his neck.And there I shall leave them for a little, he rubbing upon her back and singing to her as she quiets and clings to him, and, taking up my keys, visit our sheds to take stock of what we left stored there.For I have a home to make a place of warmth and comfort again. 

But that is later.Now, we do little but rest one against the other, my husband and I.And here we relearn the warmth of skin and the sigh of the other’s breath.

“Nienelen,” says he into the quiet, “ _wilt thou not say my name?_ ”

“ _Thou art hîr nin,_ ” I say, though ‘tis clear it is not what he wants.He is not the only one who can work upon a person and frustrate them to the point of vexation, but he shakes his head, looking upon me earnestly.

“Nienelen, _do not tease me, I beg thee_.”

Oh _, ai!_ No, for here with the strength of his arms warm about me and the beating of his heart beneath my ear, where he has returned to us against all hope, I find he is much more.

“You are the son of Arathorn, healer and Lord of the Dúnedain of Arnor, the father of my children, and my husband, Aragorn.”

“Aye, that I am,” he says low. “ _Wilt thou kiss me, my wife?For I have longed for the touch of thy lips since even ere we were parted._ ”

And so, rising from where I rest upon him, I do.

And as many years ago, when first my lord kissed me as we sat upon this very bench, his lips are as plums, ripe and warmed by the midsummer sun, and I want only to suck out their sweetness and lap at the juice that may run down my chin.Yet, I need not rush to it.For the tenderness of their touch is mine, and I need not fear any of it shall go untasted.

~


End file.
